We entered a narrow canyon, its rock walls rising high on both sides like a wound torn open in reality.
No trees. No sound.
Only wind — blowing against us, heavy and cold, carrying something that felt… ancient.
“What is this place?” I asked.
Wind paused and pointed forward. Her voice was quieter than usual:
“This is the Fracture of Memory.
It’s where broken memories end up — ones that were locked but not erased.
No one knows who created it first. But when a memory is cut from its original thread and doesn’t fade completely… it drifts here.”
I looked around.
The rocks held strange imprints — one like a hand pressing down, another like a door slammed shut before it could lock.
Everything felt… oddly familiar.
Wind opened her bag and took out the shard of mirror she had carried.
She placed it on a smooth, crystal-like stone and touched it.
For a brief second, the stone glowed.
Then—nothing.
She frowned and tried again.
Still nothing.
I moved closer to ask, but her eyes met mine first — and there was something unusual in her gaze.
Not fear. Not confusion.
But incomprehension.
“…This memory is encrypted,” she said slowly. “And not by the Watchers.”
I blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean… whoever created this encryption isn’t like them. It’s stronger. Deeper.”
She lowered her voice. “It’s a lock meant for… insiders.”
I stayed silent.
Wind took a deep breath and placed her hand on the crystal again — this time, holding it longer.
The ground around us vibrated slightly.
A soft ripple in the air.
And in that shimmer, an image appeared:
Me. Standing in this very place.
But I looked different. My face, my clothes.
And around me — figures in gleaming armor and bronze masks.
I wasn’t running from them.
Instead, they were following me — because I was leading them.
The realization hit hard. My heart pounded as I staggered back.
“That can’t be…” I whispered.
Wind stepped back too, pale.
“You’ve been here before,” she said.
I looked down, and the rock beneath me felt like it was dissolving.
A wave of dizziness hit me.
And then — images from old dreams returned, crashing in:
The bronze mask.
The sea of memories.
A child’s voice cut off mid-sentence.
I collapsed.
Inside my mind, something pulsed — not in words, not in voices — but in rhythm.
A heartbeat I didn’t recognize… but that came from within.
Wind touched my forehead, trying to bring me back.But I had already fallen…
Into something deeper.
